


The handsome prince is a jerk

by ihartdiamonds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU - Cinderella, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihartdiamonds/pseuds/ihartdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Bradbury wishes more than anything to go to the ball, but her step family wants her to stay at home where it's safe.</p><p>Of course, then her fairy godmother shows up....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The handsome prince is a jerk

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the usual, I don't own these characters, I don't own Cinderella.

God, do my stepbrothers go on. I can hear their voices through three floors, and that's on top of the music from my stereo and my stepmother clomping around. They're all getting ready for the ball, the wonderful ball at the palace tonight.   
Everyone's been going on and on about it for weeks. Oh, prince Richard is having a ball at the palace. Oh, he's looking for a woman to take as his bride. Oh, everyone from Wichita to Omaha is invited.   
Everyone except me.  
Not that I want to go. Neither does anyone else in my family. They all hate the prince, think he's evil. But they have to go to keep up appearances, despite the fact that they spend a lot of time plotting how to kill him before he kills them.  
"Shut it Sammy!" Dean, my oldest stepbrother, yells. "We'll just gank the son of a bitch and run like hell! No one will see us, an if they do they'll hardly complain!"  
"You don't know that!" Sam, always the serious one, protests. "It's too risky."  
"Are you boys getting ready?" Their mother shouts from another floor.  
"Yes, mum," they chorus, but I doubt they are. My stepbrothers are experts in killing things, but hopeless when it comes to how they look. I can hear my stepmother climbing up the stairs to check on them.  
She must be satisfied, because them she comes down the stairs to see me.  
For the past half hour I've been scrubbing at a stain in the paint on my wall and listening to music, and feeling sorry for myself. But when my intimidating stepmother walks in I give up on the stain and switch my music off.  
Jody leans against the doorway. She's wearing a long blue dress and glitter in her short hair. If I look closely at the dress, I can see a seam that's unravelling. Intentionally, so that in an emergency she can tear apart the dress to free herself.   
Awesome.  
"I'm sorry you can't come," she says for the hundredth time that night. "But it's for your own protection."  
"I know," I mutter.  
She walks over and pats me on the shoulder. "You'll thank us for this later."  
"Not if you die," I mutter even more quietly.  
Jody doesn't hear me. "Boys, we're leaving now!"   
When she reaches the door she turns around, waiting for me to wish her luck.  
"Good luck."  
"See you, Charlie."  
"Yeah, bye Charlie!" Sam and Dean yell down the stairs.  
And they leave without me, just like that.  
They could be walking in to their deaths, and I'm not there to help them.  
"I wish I could go to the ball," I whisper to no one in particular.  
I don't believe in wishes. I've wished so many times for my real mum to wake up, and for my real dad to come back. It's useless.  
But not this time.  
"Do you want to go to the ball?" A voice says behind me. Instinctively I spin around, fists clenched, ready for a fight.  
But instead of a fight, I find a beautiful woman.  
She's got dark hair, smooth skin, a great figure stuffed in a lilac dress.   
Doesn't mean she's not evil, of course. You can't judge someone based on their looks.  
"Who are you?" I demand. "How did you get in?"  
"You summoned me." She takes a ate closer, and I resist the temptation to take a step back. Sam and Dean always tell me to be assertive, to not show fear.  
"You made a wish, so I came to answer it," she continues.   
"Are you supposed to be my fairy godmother?" I ask.  
She frowns. "Yes, how could you tell?"  
I brushed the question away with a hand. "It's obvious. What's your name, fairy godmother?"  
She looks up from where she's been self-consciously fiddling with her dress, trying to make herself look less like a fairy godmother.   
"Gilda."  
"Well, Gilda, can you magic me to the ball?"   
I'm getting impatient now, waiting for things to move along.  
"Ah, yes. I will need a pumpkin, four mice and a frog."  
I raise my eyebrows. Dean has an objection against anything that's a vegetable, Sam is scared of mice, and Jody despises frogs.  
"Those things aren't really available right now."  
Gilda's face falls. "Oh."  
She seems so desperate to help me, even though we've just met.  
An idea hits me.  
"Will a whole roast chicken, four ladybugs and a dog work?"  
This time it's Gilda's turn to raise her eyebrows. "You know what? It actually might."  
I'm already charging up the stairs. "Good. I'll be back in a minute!"  
My first stop is the kitchen. Jody's left a whole roast chicken in the oven for my dinner, but it has a much more important purpose than that now.  
Next stop is the garden. The dog Dean rescued last week bounds up to me, making a grab for the chicken.  
"Hey," I say, patting his head. We haven't bothered to name him, since we'll be giving him away soon.  
Holding the chicken high, I walk over to the garden an find a plant with a lot of ladybugs on it. I coax four of them onto my finger and run back for the house. The dog, sensing my excitement, bounds in after me.  
Gilda's standing in exactly the same spot. I slide in and slam the chicken down in front of her.  
"Hurry before the dog gets it!"  
She closes her eyes and waves her hand, and suddenly we're outside on the front lawn. The chicken, the dog and the ladybugs are gone. But towering above me is a huge coach, round and flesh pink and-  
Chicken shaped.  
Sitting on a bench at the front of the coach is the coachman, a hunchback with a dark beard and a long coattail. It takes me a few seconds to recognise the dog.  
The dog is holding the reins of four red and black spotted horses.  
"Oh. My. God," I mumble.  
"And now, for your dress," Gilda says, smiling at my wonder. She waves her hand again and my grubby jeans and Harry Potter t-shirt disappear, replaced with a flowing red dress to match the colour of my hair. Red glass slippers mould themselves around my feet, raising me slightly off the ground.  
She's done it. She's really really done it.  
"Thank you!" I throw my arms around her and squeeze her as tight as I can in my restrictive bodice.  
"Be back by midnight," she warns when I let go.  
"Yeah, I will."   
Barely able to contain my excitement, I leap into the chicken coach.

When I pull up outside the palace, people are staring. At me, at my horses, at the chicken coach. Men gather around me as I emerge, all eager to help me down. I ignore all their hands and step down independently.   
I'm not here for the men, I'm here to help my stepfamily kill the prince.  
And maybe look at some of the pretty girls, but that's second priority.  
I wobble inside, into the people and the light and the noise. I'm immediately lost. Where's Sam, and Dean, and Jody?  
Too many people. I shove through them, apologizing to the people who throw me dirty looks. Someone stands on my dress. My ankle rolls in my stupid glass shoe and I fall.  
And hand reaches down to help me up. This time, I take it and let them pull me to my feet.  
And find myself face to face with Prince Richard Roman.  
All the girls swoon over him. But personally I don't see the appeal.  
"Hello," he says. I've heard his voice described as being 'deep' and 'buttery' several annoying times.   
"Charlie," he adds with a wink.  
"How do you know my name?" I demand.  
"Oh, I know a lot about you, Charlie Bradbury."  
He hasn't let go of my hand, and I'm starting to panic.  
"Like how you live with your two stepbrothers and stepmother. Like how your favourite Harry Potter character is Hermione. Like how-" he leans in and his voice drops to a whisper. "You're not interested in me at all. You're not interested in any man. You interest me, so I've been watching you. You have such potential."  
I try to shake him off, but he only grabs me tighter.  
"Let me go, creep!" I hiss.  
But of course he doesn't.  
"Why, Charlie? We're having a good talk."  
No, no, no. This is not happening.   
I grab one of the stupid glass shoes off my foot and slam it into his eye.  
It shatters, cutting my hand, but it cuts his face too. There's cries of alarm from around us. Guards will be running at me any moment, but at least he's loosened his grip.  
I pull away, and yell.  
"SAM! DEAN!"  
They've been hovering nearby, waiting for an opening. Now they run in, but I don't wait around to see what happens.  
I pull my other shoe off and throw it at the prince, then turn and high tail it back to the chicken coach.

I start crying before I even get home. I don't even know why. I'm not a cryer. I don't get shock or anything normally.  
The coach door opens. Gilda seems surprised by my early return, since she's been busy turning fireflies into dandelion fluff. When she sees me crying, she rushes over.  
"What happened? Why are you ack so soon?"  
I only manage out one small sentence, which doesn't even begin to explain.  
"The handsome prince is a jerk!"

Gilda puts her arms around me and I get the sensation of floating. Then we're back in my room, and the familiar surroundings help me to calm a little. Enough for me to sit down with Gilda on the edge of the bed and explain properly.  
Well, properly-ish.  
"The Prince is a creep. So I stabbed him in the eye with one of your lovely glass slippers."  
Now I remember that my hand is bleeding. I hold it out to her as proof of my actions.  
Without saying a word, she takes it in her own and heals it.  
"Thanks," I mumble, knowing it will never be enough.   
"You don't have to thank me," Gilda says, blushing. She's still holding my hand, and I know she knows, but neither of us let go.  
"I'm your fairy godmother," she continues. "Your wish is my command."  
"Kiss me."  
And she does, right there in my bedroom, in the stolen moments before my stepfamily gets home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
